Cause and Effect
by Jezzabelle
Summary: Raphaela is drunk. Again. And with bare hours until she is expected at a Fancy Cocktail Party For Functioning Adults, she'll need a miracle to stop her falling over and embarrassing herself. Or Severus.


Yes, the retiring of long, chapter-y Raphaela stories left a gaping hole in my heart-place. Now, at home on a Wednesday night with a bottle of wine and a fully loaded Pez dispenser (Princess Jasmine, if you're interested) she's brought out of hibernation for this little one-shot. Enjoy!

Note: Reading of my other Raphaela stories is not necessary, but I've heard I wrote them pretty well. So check 'em out, y'all.

There's an American Dad reference hiding somewhere in here too, because 1: I adore that show. And 2: it's the perfect line for the situation. _You're welcome_.

* * *

Okay, so I was drunk. At four in the afternoon. On a Tuesday. But it wasn't my fault, really. I'd gone out at eleven that morning on a sole mission: find an amazing pair of shoes and buy the _shit_ out of them. The only trouble was, _that_ had been completed in about four seconds flat. I could hear shoes, you know. They called to me like sirens. Not _actually_, but the sentiment still stood. Amazing bright blue patent leather peep-toe heels with a concealed platform and matching bows on the toe-strap? I practically wet myself in the store. And what happened next was _entirely_ out of my control. It might've been my fault that I chose not to find a quiet spot and disapparate straight home, but it certainly wasn't my doing that my route home passed a whiskey bar. A whiskey bar promoting the local gin by offering half price gin and tonics, _that day only_. It was fate. I couldn't ignore a call to arms like that. And I really deserved a celebratory gin and tonic for such a successful shopping trip.

Which might be why I tripped over the doormat on my way into the house at Spinner's End and ended up on my back on the landing, giggling like a lunatic. I wrangled my legs to kick the door shut with some difficulty, and with that chore done, fell to the duty of remaining on my back, giggling. It was a hard life, but someone had to live it. Once I'd gotten over what had made me laugh in the first place, which I had completely forgotten by that point, I managed to get on my feet and shakily, staggeringly, death-defyingly, walk up the staircase to the bedroom I shared with one Severus Snape, ex-potions master and super-babe extraordinaire. Well, I thought so, anyway. I kicked off the pointy-toed black heels that were giving me epic blisters and sighed, swaying slightly as I sat on the bed.

"Good afternoon," came a low voice from behind me. I twisted around to see who it was and in the process fell on my face, back contorted most uncomfortably and mouth full of doona. Classy. I dragged myself up onto my elbows and grinned like the Cheshire cat at Severus, who was standing in the bathroom doorway and staring shrewdly at me. "And where do you think you've been?"

"I dunno…" I said, trying to sound as petulant as I could. "_Places_."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. I was glad of this, I truly was. His rage was incredibly fear-inducing and if he wanted to keep his cool, that was all to the good. Eventually, he seemed to find it within him to not be too angry with me and he opened his eyes, stretching out a hand. "Come on," he said, clearly forcing placidity, "let's go downstairs. I'll make the tea."

I grinned and let him lead me down the staircase, one hand in his, one on the banister. I wanted to jump on his back and make him carry me places but I was sober enough to see that that probably would cause grievous injury and possible death on both our parts. Eventually, he sat me down at the kitchen table and my hand felt a bit lonely without his. I was going to go over and make him take me to some other room just for the contact, but my head was spinning and I thought it best not to move too much. After what felt like no time at all, a mug of tea was placed in front of me.

"Oh man," I said, surprised. "Oh, thanks dude. Guy. That's really cool of you. You know? Wait, what?"

"Excuse me?" was all the response I got from Severus, who was sitting perpendicular to me. His tea was in the mug he'd always hated, the one I'd bought, with the sleepy kitty in the top hat. It was odd that he didn't think such a thing was completely precious, but it was even odder that he was acknowledging the existence of what he thought was such a vile creation. He could be strange sometimes.

"I said, what?" I repeated. "What were you saying?"

"I… Raphaela, I didn't say anything." We stared at each other for a few moments, then I nodded sagely.

"Of course." I tapped my nose. "That's what you want _them_ to think."

"Who is 'them'?"

I looked around conspiratorially. "The hedge trimmers."

"There isn't a hedge for miles around."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Exactly."

He shook his head in disbelief for a moment, before starting to speak again. "You've forgotten what day it is, haven't you?"

"Nuh-uh," I said proudly. "It's Tuesday."

"The eighteenth," he finished for me. Well, I was getting there. He didn't seem to recognise any of my accomplishments, though, and just kept staring at me like I was a particularly stupid child. "Of July."

"Well, good for bloody July," I seethed, suddenly angry at the whole month. "Anyway, eighteenth July is the day that I buy my shoes. It has been that way for generations of me and I will continue to do so for generations to come."

"Liar," Severus smirked. Well, at least he wasn't glaring at me anymore. "You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

A movement by my side caught my attention and I turned to see Lila, who'd just turned five, giving me a piercing, narrow-eyed glare that I was _sure_ her awful father had taught her when I wasn't looking. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she echoed, an evil grin on her face. "One of your eyes is half-closed."

I leant towards her conspiratorially. "That's what they want you to believe," I whispered. She just stared at me again. Bloody kids. Didn't get me _at all_.

Lila turned to Severus. "Mummy's gone stupid." I snorted, too overcome with amusement to tell her off for calling me stupid. That was really the thing one should nip in the bud, right? Soon enough she'd be sixteen and telling me that I was _such a bitch, I can't believe you're not letting me go out with my friends._ Well, whatever. I'd beat that punk kid when I got to it.

Severus put his arm around Lila's shoulders and gave me a withering glare. "Your mother's had too much silly juice."

I snorted again. "More like… more like necessary juice," I giggled. Lila didn't think my jokes were funny. Sweet Merlin, she was so much like her bloody father that I was starting to wonder whether or not I was even in the room when she was conceived. She clambered up onto his lap and he whispered something in her ear, something that I couldn't make out. "What did you say?!" I demanded of him, adding extra interrobang for effect. Nothing doing, though. Lila just giggled, staring at me, and the corner of Severus' mouth even twitched somewhat. Well, they could have _their_ lovely little club for sensible people and I'd just stay awesome by myself. Maybe when Lila turned sixteen she'd be calling me a bitch for making her go out with her friends instead of staying in being boring and sensible. Damn it though, boring and sensible was no kind of life for a sixteen-year-old girl and _damn it while she was living under my roof she'd go out and make some god damn terrible decisions_.

Bad parent? Me?

At any rate, my tea was rapidly cooling so I started drinking it, trying to give glares to both my enemies at the same time. It didn't work very well.

"As I was saying before you decided to reinforce my belief of your reduced brainpower," Severus said, suddenly businesslike. "Today is the eighteenth of July."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" I seethed. Severus rolled his eyes.

"We're expected at Minerva's house tonight. Apparently she's hosting some sort of… thing… and _you_ told her we'd go."

Hmm. Odd. "I don't remember doing that."

"I find that entirely believable."

"Shutup. When is it?"

"Eight. It is now five. You have three hours to make yourself appear as though you didn't marinate overnight in a bathtub full of vodka. Two and a half if you want to be presentable for Lucindy."

"Lucindy's coming around?" I said, suddenly excited. So, now I was at home with _child_ I was bored out of my skull most of the time. A visit from my best friend would provide some break to my monotonous daily life, especially since Lucindy's visits were rationed. In his words, Severus could only handle one of me, and when I was with Lucindy it was like there was four Raphaelas, drinking and cussing and falling over coffee tables.

"You told me that if I didn't call Lucindy to babysit, I'd be sleeping in the bathtub for a month and you'd turn the cold tap on at regular intervals." I didn't remember doing that but it _was_ the kind of thing I'd do. I nodded slowly, trying to look like I knew what he was talking about. Predictably, he saw through it. "Merlin, Raphaela, are you _ever_ sober?"

I thought for a moment. "Sometimes I'm hungover," I said helpfully. He rolled his eyes.

Falling asleep in the shower aside, I did an entirely acceptable job of getting ready for this event that I supposedly said I'd go to. In the interests of looking less inebriated in front of people who would surely judge the _crap_ out of me, I decided on flats instead of heels and would arrive at the party looking tired but still very glamorous and inform people that I was fighting an infection of some kind. I couldn't really think of any infections off the top of my head, aside from the commonly-known venereal ones, but showing up to a party and shouting "I have syphilis!" was never really going to be a viable option. I'd keep my faux-infection mysterious and maybe for once in my life people would see me as an enigma rather than a drunk.

At half past seven, when I heard the sound of Lucindy banging into the house and stomping around, I descended the staircase. Of course, I was hoping to look like a wonderful 'after' shot in a teen movie, wandering down the stairs languidly like I was just _so_ beautiful but I wasn't sure of myself just yet and the fact that I didn't know how beautiful I was just made me more beautiful, but in the interests of realism I was clutching the rail so I wouldn't fall and break my face, creeping down in terror that I'd made a drunken mistake and I had lipstick smeared across one cheek. Fortunately, though, I was fairly certain I'd coloured within the lines.

Lucindy rushed at me with a shoulder-dislocating hug as soon as I entered the living room, making me wince and inform her that yes I loved her too but I appreciated having my bones in their original formations. "You look hot," she said after her hug finally relented. I knew there was a reason I kept her around.

Severus, though, was predictable as ever. His eyebrows were slightly raised but all he said was a muttered "Better."

"If you're not careful I'll leave you and become Lucindy's lesbian lover," I seethed at him. Fortunately, he didn't get the chance to respond because Lila came in from (probably) smearing marmite on the couch cushions and let out the vocal equivalent of an atom bomb. She threw her arms around Lucindy's legs and continued to squeal, dragging her around so forcefully her pants were in danger of descending.

"Well," I sniffed, looking down my nose at Severus. "At least she inherited _something_ from me."

The whatever-it-was at Minerva's ended up being some kind of fancy cocktail party for functioning adults, something I'd always dreamed of being invited to. Unfortunately, I didn't really fit the description of 'functioning adult', and had thus been excluded from their fancy activities thusfar. Bastards.

What surprised me most of all when we arrived, though, was that it wasn't just a rehashing of the Hogwarts staff. Apparently it was possible to teach at that school _and_ know people from The Outside World. Who knew? After being greeted by The Celebrated Hostess, and having beverages and instructions to 'circulate' pressed upon us – and excuse me, but what does 'circulate' even mean anyway? – I noticed Severus' slack-jawed staring. He looked like he was about to start drooling, and it was starting to concern me, having never seen that look on his face before. It was the look I imagine was very similar to the one I assume when presented with a larger than average pie. Awe and reverence, mostly. I followed his gaze and found myself staring, unimpressed, at a large, red velvet couch. Unfortunately, my spidey-senses gave me the hunch that my dreams were not coming true and my husband was not developing an interest in interior decorating. No, I was entirely certain that his interest lay in either the tall, leggy blonde in the low-cut dress or the full-bearded bald man in round, wire-rimmed glasses, who were conversing on the couch.

"I give up," I murmured. "Which one are you drooling over, the tits or the glasses?"

My words seemed to break Severus out of the reverie he was in, and he looked at me in a confused sort of a way. "What?" he muttered, before apparently deciding he didn't particularly care about what I was saying. "Do you _know_ who that is?"

"I don't know who either of them are," I pouted.

"What?" Severus glanced back at the couch. "Oh, well I don't know who she is either. But _he_ is _Padraic Thompson_." He looked at me impressively, expecting some kind of reaction, but I just looked at him apologetically.

"I don't know who that is." I didn't know whether it was the just-starting hangover or the fact I was at a party full of strangers, but I was feeling very sulky. I kind of just wished I was at home in bed with Severus and Lila. Severus' glare at my ignorance didn't much help my mood, either.

"He's only written twenty-four books on the mechanics of potion-making," he said very slowly, like I was an idiot. "All of which we own."

"You know I don't _read things_."

He rolled his eyes and exhaled in a long-suffering sigh. "He's also won the Bellany award for contributions to magical literature six times."

"I don't ca-are," I whined in what I was sure was a _very_ appealing way. "This party sucks." I was sounding like a fifteen-year-old and I knew it, but that didn't stop me from acting very unlike how a mother of a five-year-old should act. I could tell I wasn't holding Severus' attention, though. His glance kept flitting back to Padraic on the couch, and when he'd ascertained that I'd finished talking, he pounced on the opportunity.

"Excuse me, I have to go and… go," he barely said to me as he sped across to Padraic. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd grovelled at the man's feet and drooled all over his shoes, but instead he simply began to act as though he hadn't been cultivating a giant crush on the man for the past five minutes.

I cast my eyes somewhat awkwardly around the room. I didn't know where McGonagall was hiding the people I actually knew, but they sure as hell weren't anywhere near me. Before I could formulate a plan to find the nearest closet and hide in it to cry about how much of a giant loser I was, the Amazon from the couch was bearing down upon me. She really was incredibly tall. I was practically face-to-face with her enormous tits, and that was a little bit disconcerting.

"Good evening," she said, flashing her stupidly white teeth at me. Bitch. How _dare_ she be prettier than me. "I am Ljubenka."

Of course she was. "Good evening," I said, with just a touch of cattiness. Well, so what if I acted like a total bitch to a probably perfectly nice person? I was allowed to. "I am Raphaela." Although, now that I thought about it, since my husband was off humping Padraic's leg, I really shouldn't have been acting rudely to anyone who was nice enough to engage me in conversation. "Um… if I look tired it's because I'm fighting off an infection." I had the urge to add 'but also note that I look incredibly glamorous too', but restrained myself. Ljubenka smiled politely, and predictably looked around for someone less mad to talk to.

"Good lord, is that the time?" she squealed, looking at the clock. I had the mad thought that she was going to follow that up with 'The babysitter! I have to go!' Of course not. "I've got a party to get to." Of course she did. _She'd_ never shot a baby out the vagoo. I suddenly felt very smugly superior, since I _had_ shot a baby out _my_ vagoo, but that was dashed when I realised that I wished I had a party to get to. One where I could get drunk off my arse, stay out all night, and get off with a stranger in the coat room. But no, I thought to myself as Ljubenka left, I'd spend my weekends at stupid boring adult gatherings for adult people. People who served you booze then frowned at you when you fell over. _They should have known the connection_.

I sat myself down in a rather fancy chair and chugged my untouched drink. It did nothing to help the fuzzy feeling in my head but I didn't care. I was depressed, it was my first night where I didn't have to keep track of Lila in months, and instead of having any sort of fun I was sitting alone at a party looking sad. _Why_ had I agreed to go to this thing? _Why_?

I was so engrossed in my own sadness (the kind of sadness where my problems were infinitely worse than anyone else's in the world ever) that I didn't even notice I was being approached until the lighting was blocked out by a tall, thin mass. I looked up, realising far too late that I was involuntarily doing the most pathetic droopy puppy eyes anyone has ever seen, and saw that Severus was looking down at me, an oddly blank look on his face.

"Come on," he said, reaching a hand out. "Let's go."

Sweet Merlin, there was nothing I'd have loved more than to have left that party with him right then and there. But he'd barely been talking to that Padraic guy for ten minutes, and I didn't want to make him leave if he was going to end up resenting me for it and building up the rage about it until we were old and he killed me in my sleep. "What about Padriac? Weren't you talking to him?"

I barely saw it, but as Severus glanced back to where Padraic sat alone on the couch, I noticed a look of longing flit across his face. He turned back to me, shook his head, and took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."

I smiled.

Later, as I was lying in bed listening to Severus' quiet breathing and Lila's snores from the next room (further proof that she germinated in _my_ uterus), I still couldn't stop myself from smiling. So, maybe I wasn't the best at circulating at fancy cocktail parties for functioning adults. Maybe I hadn't quite reached the level of functioning adult yet. Maybe I glared at women for being prettier than me, and I didn't have the social skills to talk to anybody without coming across as completely unhinged. Maybe I got drunk at inappropriate times and forgot about things I said I'd do. But I had Severus, at least. I had a man who would actually _notice _me having an awful time and desert his One True Love to take me home. And I knew that all this, my marriage and my daughter and the life I was living could so easily never have happened. I was awful, irritating, and crass. The reason why he hadn't run far, far away to find someone who didn't get angry at inanimate objects or wear the same trousers for weeks at a time still completely eluded me. But he was with me. _Me_.

With this wave of affection, I rolled over and gave him a hug. It was my ineloquent way of saying that I was very sorry for all the awful things I did and that he was more wonderful than I could have ever imagined.

"Hmmph," he grumbled. "I'm _trying_ to sleep. What _is_ it?"

"Nothing," I replied, moving back to my side. "Bug you later."

And I fully intended to.

* * *

A/N: Holy jesus, you guys are rock stars for sticking through three and a half thousand god damn words in the one sitting. I bet your butts are all super-sore. Anyway I wanted to stick this at the end so that uninterested parties wouldn't have to sit through it, so here we go.

About an hour after I posted the epilogue to Final Piece, I realised "_Auuugh_, I forgot to put that bit in the end like I meant to. I'm a fucking spazzoid. Also _why_ does my pillow smell like Indian food?" So here we go, the Author's Note that I was supposed to stick into the epilogue but didn't because as I said, I'm a fucking spazzoid.

Super, super, super, super, amazing, incredible thanks to everyone who's been lovely enough to review my Raphaela stories. I had such insane fun writing them and it was really amazing to hear that y'all considered them as excellent as you did. Not to mention the loveliness inherent in finding something in my email other than LOSE 35 POUNDS IN TWO DAYS BECAUSE YOU'RE A BIG FAT FATTY AND NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE YOU. (Spam is mean.) Y'all gave me a big, goofy smile when I read your reviews, one that made me jump around and dance because _oh my god, internet people think I'm okay!_ That wasn't meant as sarcastic as it looks. And super-crazy thanks, _more-than-friends-sexytime_ love, and big sloppy kisses for MakeLoveNotHorcruxes. You're a fucking rock star.

And no, I did not ever find out why my pillow smelled of Indian food, but the next night it smelled like mac and cheese. I suspect tomfoolery.

(And you have no idea how tempted I am to post this RIGHT NOW. The place in my brain reserved for poor self-esteem is shouting PUT IT UP NOW! INTERNET PEOPLE WILL TELL YOU IT IS OKAY AND THAT WILL MAKE YOU SMILE! But the rational (and tired) part of my brain knows that it's 2.45am, I am very sleepy, and the internet people will be there in the morning. I love you, internet people.)


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